


A Yellow Hood in the Hall

by Elsajeni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Budding Love, M/M, Post-Quest of Erebor, Pre-Relationship, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni/pseuds/Elsajeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry to keep putting you off — I know I talked up how they'd want to meet you, and they do, truly, it's just—"</p>
<p>"Look at him, he's nervous as a schoolboy," Nori interrupts with a snicker. "For pity's sake, Bofur, they're just kids. Anyone'd think you were bringing him home to announce your marriage."</p>
<p>"Don't make fun," Bilbo protests, feeling suddenly protective of Bofur, who has now gone <em>quite</em> red. "I'm the one who's nervous — think of it, presenting myself in front of a dozen children expecting an invisible, dragon-bamboozling burglar!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Yellow Hood in the Hall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/gifts).



Bilbo is doing his marketing, as he usually does between luncheon and tea, when he becomes aware of a buzz of whispered conversation in the square behind him. He looks up, puzzled, at the greengrocer whose stall he's been poking about for the last ten minutes, and gets an equally puzzled frown and a shrug in return; then the noise of conversation suddenly picks up, and is joined by hurrying footsteps, and a moment later young Hamfast Gamgee rushes into the shop, nearly upending a barrel of parsnips, and pants, "Mister Bilbo! Begging your pardon, sir — I'm sorry to burst in, we'd have waited 'til you were home, only — well, it's a lot of dwarves, sir, is what it is, tromping up and down the Row, and Holman didn't know what to do with them and they say they're here for you!"

Bilbo hesitates — dwarves have become a more common sight in the Shire these last few months, traveling east in small wagons and pony-trains as the word spreads that the Lonely Mountain is once more inhabitable, and he wouldn't be _entirely_ surprised if some of them knew his name. But none of the travelers so far have even passed by Bag End, let alone stopped and asked for him. "These dwarves, Ham," he says, as casually as he can manage, "which road did they come in by — from the west or the east?"

"The east," Ham Gamgee says, and then, to the greengrocer, "Bless me! Off like a shot, isn't he? I hope it don't mean trouble, dwarves turning up down our lane and all!"

* * *

Bilbo comes puffing up the hill and around the bend, and lets out a cheer that will surely do his reputation in the neighborhood no favors at all. It _is_ his dwarves waiting outside Bag End, three of them: Balin sitting and smoking on the garden bench, Nori standing nearby looking down the hill at the main road, and — best news of all, as far as Bilbo is concerned; his heart leaps at the sight — Bofur leaning against the gate, his back to the road, chatting animatedly to both of them. All three straighten up at Bilbo's shout, and Bofur turns around, a broad grin on his face, and shouts back, "About time! Although I suppose we _are_ a little early — tea is at four, didn't you say?"

"Under the circumstances," Bilbo laughs, stepping up into the garden and accepting hearty handshakes and claps on the back all around, "I think I could be persuaded to move it up by a few minutes. Please — please, come in, you must tell me all the news at once!"

The dwarves do have a fair bit of news to share over tea, as it turns out, though much of it is about dwarvish concerns that don't mean much to Bilbo — the cleaning out of various rooms and structures within the Mountain, historical artifacts unearthed in Smaug's hoard, political agreements reached with the dwarves of the Iron Hills, and so forth. He nods along, though, and asks questions about what he doesn't understand, and is rewarded when he asks about the Map Room ("I'm sorry, I'm sure this is a silly question, but wouldn't they all have been burned?") by a long description from Balin of the more durable sort of dwarven maps, all carved stone and mosaic-work and jewels inlaid in metal. Bilbo listens to this, rapt, and finally sighs and says, "I should very much like to see such a map. One day, perhaps, if I do ever come back to the Mountain."

"Oh, you needn't go that far," Balin answers with a smile. "There are some very fine specimens in the Blue Mountains as well. I know you'd mentioned coming along for a visit—"

"You do still mean to come with us, I hope," Bofur interrupts, leaning forward across the table. "I don't mean to push, o'course, but I did send word ahead that you _might_ be joining us and I know some of my nieces and nephews will be excited to meet the great hobbit burglar in the flesh."

Nori snorts at that "He don't mean to push, though," he mutters into his mug of beer.

"I just think he ought to have all the facts before he makes up his mind," Bofur says, unrepentant.

Bilbo takes a long sip of his tea, then sets the cup down and folds his hands, trying to look as though he's thinking deeply on the matter. "Well," he says, "I do hate to think of disappointing them. It's a difficult time, though — I came back to something of a mess, you know, half my things had already been auctioned, and I still haven't got everything back — if I leave now, I may miss my best chance to get it all sorted out." He glances up, steals a look at the dwarves' faces — Balin seems to be onto him, but Bofur looks genuinely sad, and even Nori is frowning slightly — and decides he can push it a bit further. "And then, of course, I really ought to be getting the garden planted—"

Nori breaks at that, and protests, "Oh, now you're just laying it on," and Bilbo bursts out laughing.

"Yes," he admits, "yes, I am. Of course I'll come! When do you mean to leave? You'll stay the night first, I hope?"

"If you don't mind having us," Balin says, giving a gracious half-bow from his seat.

"You're always welcome," Bilbo assures the three of them. "We can leave after breakfast, then — that'll give me a bit of time to pack some things, and we can have a grand supper tonight, clear the pantry right out."

"At least you'll know it's coming this time," Bofur says cheerfully. "Though I have been working on some new verses to that song—"

"Oh, _no_!" Bilbo protests, over the uproarious laughter of all three dwarves.

* * *

They spend three weeks in the Blue Mountains, and for nearly all of that time the dwarves are busy and distracted, attending to the business that brought them west in the first place. Balin spends most days sequestered in meetings with the council of clan leaders, reporting the news from Erebor and beginning the process of negotiating the new relationship between the two kingdoms, while Bofur and Nori are busy presenting themselves before various guilds, recruiting anyone wishing to resettle in Erebor to join the large caravan they plan to lead back.

Bilbo attends one council meeting with Balin, where he is introduced to a half-dozen very important dwarves, thanked for his role in the Quest, and then politely but unmistakably dismissed, presumably so that real business can be gotten on with. A few days later, Bofur makes a point of inviting him along to the guild of scribes and copyists — "You'll like them, I'm sure of it! And I reckon they'll like you, too — might be useful, in fact, having you along to talk to them, me and Nori not being really the lit'rary type." — which he enjoys rather more. They show him through their small library of important dwarvish texts, all beautifully scripted and bound and many of them with spectacular illustrations, and the journeymen he's introduced to are eager to hear about hobbitish writing. Several of them are also eager to hear about Ori's part in the Quest, as he was until recently one of their number; Bilbo directs them back to Nori, and feels privately proud of himself for fostering the relationship between the guild and the _actual_ ambassadors.

The rest of the time, though, he is largely left to his own devices. For several days, he mostly stays in the inn, assuming that going out into the city on his own would be embarrassingly attention-getting — either he'll draw stares as the only hobbit in sight, or (vain though it feels even to worry about it) he might be _recognized_. He ventures out eventually, though, and finds that it's nothing like he'd worried; hobbitish visitors don't seem terribly common, but Bilbo does spot a few beardless faces and bootless feet besides his own in the crowded squares, and though he does attract a few curious glances, no one seems particularly shocked or impressed by his presence. That makes him feel much more at ease, and for the rest of the visit he spends some time nearly every day in the markets, shopping for unfamiliar dwarvish foods, souvenirs for himself, and trinkets that might make good birthday-presents someday.

Four days before they're set to leave, Bilbo as usual arrives back at the inn for supper, settles himself at the table the dwarves have already chosen, and prepares to show off his finds from that day's shopping. He doesn't get the chance, though; before he can say a word, Nori leans across the table toward him and says in an undertone, "Have you seen those kiddies yet, who were so excited to meet you?"

"You know, I haven't," Bilbo exclaims, and turns toward Bofur. "I do want to meet them, you know — I _know_ I'll like them, if they're your relations. Would tomorrow be all right, do you think?"

Bofur looks slightly alarmed; privately, Bilbo chalks it up to embarrassment at having forgotten to schedule the visit. "Not tomorrow, I think," he says hurriedly. "I haven't spoken to Gynna yet — that's Bombur's wife, we'd be visiting in their home, so I don't like to spring it on her on short notice."

"Of course I don't want to impose," Bilbo agrees, and as the conversation moves on to another topic, he doesn't think much else of it.

Until the next night, when he inquires again about what might be the right time, and Bofur once again turns pink and says, "I don't think tomorrow will do, either. I'm sorry to keep putting you off — I know I talked up how they'd want to meet you, and they do, truly, it's just—"

"Look at him, he's nervous as a schoolboy," Nori interrupts with a snicker. "For pity's sake, Bofur, they're just kids. Anyone'd think you were bringing him home to announce your marriage."

"Don't make fun," Bilbo protests, feeling suddenly protective of Bofur, who has now gone _quite_ red. "I'm the one who's nervous — think of it, presenting myself in front of a dozen children expecting an invisible, dragon-bamboozling burglar!"

"What!" Bofur cries, his own nervousness apparently forgotten. "Nonsense — they'll think you're marvelous, I'm sure. All right, tomorrow it is. I'll go over early and make sure it's all right with Gynna, and then I'll bring you by for supper."

"There's no hurry!" Bilbo squeaks, alarmed — he really is anxious that Bofur's family should like him, and a bit worried that he won't live up to expectations — but it's too late; Bofur is already planning the menu and the evening's parlor games aloud, and hardly even seems to hear him.

As it turns out, he needn't have worried. Gynna is warm, friendly, and tremendously talkative — he supposes she and Bombur balance one another out, in a way — and the children mostly want to hear stories about his burglarious adventures; he does his best to oblige, telling them about freeing the dwarves from the wood-elves' dungeon and about his encounter with Smaug in the treasure-hall. The story of his riddle-game under the mountains is his greatest hit, though, especially since he makes them guess at all the riddles before he'll tell the answers. It's a very pleasant evening, though a bit overwhelming, and when they've said their last farewell and shut the door behind them, he finds himself beaming up at Bofur and saying, "I think that went very well, don't you?"

"'Course it did," Bofur says with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just as I said — they thought you were marvelous."

(When they arrive back at the inn, Nori does lean out his door to waggle his eyebrows at them and say, "Well? Get their blessing, did you?" Bilbo feels himself flush right up to the tips of his ears, but Bofur, at least, doesn't seem as bothered by the joke this time.)

* * *

Almost before Bilbo knows it they're back in Hobbiton, the caravan of ponies and dwarf-wagons drawing quite the crowd of gawking hobbits out into the road. At the turning to go up the hill and toward Bag End, the lead wagon slows and Bilbo hops down; Bofur and Nori rein up their ponies and stop alongside him, and a moment later Balin joins them on foot, having climbed down from his wagon as well.

"This is goodbye again, I suppose," Bilbo says after a moment. "My very dear dwarves — I will miss you, you know! But now the roads are safer and the trade routes will be running, there ought to be more caravans back and forth — is there a chance I'll see any of you passing through?"

"Me, for certain," Nori says at once. "Never been the type to stay in one place. Not on the big caravans like this one, though — you might look for me traveling on my lonesome, or with just a good friend or two."

"Well, you're always welcome here, whoever you're with," Bilbo assures him, reaching up to clasp his hand. "And what about you two — Balin, surely you'll be doing some traveling?"

Balin shakes his head. "Not so often, I think. Let the young diplomats ride back and forth; I shall make myself comfortable in the Mountain and stay there! But I'm sure this won't be the last time I'll pass this way, and you may rest assured, Mr. Baggins, that anytime I'm in the neighborhood I shall call on you for tea."

"Four o'clock," Bilbo says, "remember!" He briefly clasps Balin's hand as well, then steps back and gives him a bow, which Balin very politely returns.

Then he turns to Bofur, and hesitates. He's been trying to prepare for this, and to think of just the right words, and has at last been forced to admit to himself that the only words that seem right are _Please stay_. But… fond of him though Bofur clearly is, he's given no real sign of intentions beyond friendship, has he? Although he does look more dismayed, when Bilbo glances up at him, than either of the others — and there was Nori's teasing, the night Bofur invited him to meet his family—

As he's thinking of it, from behind him, Nori clears his throat and kicks his pony forward. "Come along, then," he says to Balin, rather louder than necessary, "let's get back into line. Bofur, you just catch us up when you're ready."

Bofur shakes his head as they walk away, his cheeks reddening. "That obvious, eh? Well, it's true, I hate to go. But I s'pose I must. Bilbo—"

"Don't go," Bilbo interrupts, and then, as Bofur stares at him in obvious surprise, bites back the impulse to apologize for saying it and carries on, "I mean — stay a little while at least, won't you? You've taken me to your home; let me return the favor, show you a bit of hobbitish life, perhaps even introduce you to a few of my relations, as I've met yours—" He runs out of steam and pauses, embarrassed. "That is, if you'd like to stay."

When he looks up, Bofur is still staring at him, though he no longer looks quite so surprised; his expression is, if Bilbo dares think it, almost one of _wonder_. After a long moment he gives himself a shake and looks away; Bilbo's heart sinks, but Bofur, without a word, dismounts his pony, pulls his traveling pack down as well, and shouts ahead to Balin and Nori, "Oi! Take this pony, will you? And I'll need the rest of my baggage down off that wagon — I'm stopping here a while."

Balin turns around, quickly enough that Bilbo wonders whether he's actually been expecting this — since evidently Nori's teasing wasn't so far from the mark after all — and hurries back to take the pony's reins. Ahead of them, Nori slows his own pony and looks back over his shoulder at them. "A while, eh?" he calls, one braided eyebrow cocked. "And how long's a while, might I ask? I expect your kin will want to know when you might turn up."

Bofur frowns, evidently thinking hard on the matter; Bilbo waits a few moments, then, when he still hasn't said anything, suggests, "You could wait for the next caravan — that ought to be, what, a month?"

"Or thereabout," Balin puts in. "And they could use someone who knows the roads, I'm sure."

"Aye," Bofur says thoughtfully, "and Gynna and the littl'uns will be going by that caravan, so I'd be sure to have a place in their wagon — it does make sense. All right, tell Bombur and Bifur that, then — I'll be along by the next caravan, before winter's set in."

* * *

It takes three strapping young dwarves to unload Bofur's things and carry them up the hill into Bag End; then Bilbo is obliged to offer them each a mug of beer and a bit to eat, and Bofur has to go back down to the caravan and bid goodbye to the friends he's made among the travelers (which is nearly all of them), and all told it's an hour and a half before the last wagon of the caravan has disappeared up the road and the two of them are left alone in Bilbo's front hall.

"Well," Bilbo says, a little breathlessly. "I suppose… make yourself comfortable, won't you? You remember where to hang your hood, of course — and I'll start something for supper, and maybe an apple cake for the morning, and we'll get your things moved into the second bedroom, and then perhaps we can—"

Bofur reaches out and catches him by the waist. "Sit quietly for ten seconds at a time?" he suggests, laughing, and pulls Bilbo with him toward the settee in the parlor. "Come along — supper can wait a while, I think."

Bilbo goes along willingly enough, laughing a bit himself at his own overexcitement. "Fair enough," he says, dropping onto the settee. "You're right, of course. It's just that I'm happy to have you here, and I don't want to waste it — I only have you for a month, after all."

"Hmm," Bofur says, settling back in his seat and pulling Bilbo over to lean into his shoulder. "It's true, that next caravan will be along in hardly any time. Although I can always just send word with Gynna, o'course, if it should happen I decide to stay a _bit_ longer."


End file.
